


Fool's Errand

by Bittodeath



Series: Integration AUs [2]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Infiltration, Integration AU, Love, M/M, Minor Character Death, Moral Dilemmas, Multiple Endings, Spy - Freeform, sleeper agent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 06:54:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26469001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bittodeath/pseuds/Bittodeath
Summary: Set in the Integration AU: Obi-Wan is a Jedi Sleeper agent in the Mandalorian Empire, and Jango's spouse - until Initiates and Padawans get captured for Integration, and he's left with a choice: do nothing and keep his cover, or act.
Relationships: Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: Integration AUs [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1865311
Comments: 33
Kudos: 267
Collections: Integration: The Collection





	1. The Setting

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Integration](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11920878) by [Millberry_5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Millberry_5/pseuds/Millberry_5). 



> This idea hit me in the face so here we are. Warnings and rating in the A/N of each chapter. One chapter = one ending. Translations in the end notes.
> 
> Rated M.

Obi-Wan had always known his mission would be hard. From the moment he had accepted it as a Senior Padawan and started to train for it, he’d known it would be extremely difficult. He had had difficult choices to make before – on the battlefield, mostly, but also when he took tactical decisions. He had had to injure, sometimes maim his own – fellow Jedi who only did their duty, like he did his. He had managed to never have to kill one, thank the Force for small mercies.

He was now going onto his thirtieth birthday, and he had reached an even better place than they had hoped for: _be’Mand’alor_. Anything he deemed necessary for the success of his mission, he was allowed to do – he could only ask for extraction if he were discovered, or about to Fall. His role as a sleeper agent was important; he had known this when he had started Shadow training at eighteen, he had known that when, six months later, he had agreed to this mission and started to train to “become” Mandalorian – and not just any Mandalorian, but one likely to impress and climb the social ladder, up to the _Mand’alor_ ’s council. And with the emphasis Mandalorians put on family… he had had permission to marry.

He had been Knighted at twenty-two, and immediately stepped into his identity of Ben Darsha. He had always known his purpose, even surrounded by Mandalorian culture – even when fighting with his _traat’aliit_. Most of his men survived battles, even against the Sith: he had gone from promotion into promotion, until he’d caught the attention of _Mand’alor_ Jango Fett and his inner circle. He had been twenty-six then, looking all the part of the roguish warrior, but he had never expected to catch Jango’s attention as something more than an advisor or a good officer.

He had, though. The _Mand’alor_ had courted him for eight months, and Obi-Wan had encouraged him. He would have done so for the sake of the mission, but he actually liked the _Mand’alor_. That only made his mission more unpalatable – he hated what he had become, the betrayal his position supposed. His Force-senses, he kept tightly shielded, only meditating in movement, while he trained, or when others thought him asleep. His true identity, he kept locked in that box too, turning it over and over with mental hands when he could actually stomach to think about this.

It was better if he was Ben, and not Obi-Wan, when his _riduur_ took him on dates in the gardens; when they exchanged anecdotes over dinner and compared philosophy points. It was better if he was Ben, when Jango kissed him oh so gently; when the man who loved him undressed him with care or passion. It was easier to open his legs and let himself feel, take the given pleasure and moan endearments he desperately wished he didn’t feel, if he was Ben – if he truly was the Mandalorian _riduur_ he pretended to be, and not the Jedi Shadow he really was.

He never let himself dwell over what he felt for Jango. His respect, admiration and friendship were sincere. But he never let himself stray to how _easy_ it was to play the part of the besotted lover; how _true_ it felt. Jedi did not get attached. Jedi Shadows even less, and for sleeper agents, it was… it was the ultimate threat to their integrity.

It all came crashing down quite suddenly. Jango and his men had penetrated onto Republic territory; and gotten a war-prize of great valour without great loss: a ship, bound for Illum, with the twelve Initiates and four Padawans aboard – two Junior Padawans, and two Senior ones. The three Knights and the Master supervising the mission had all been killed in their vain attempts to prevent such a thing to happen. Obi-Wan had seen them all – one of the Senior Padawans, a human boy who burned high and hard in the Force, had snarled at him in the most un-Jedi like manner. The other one, a blue-skinned Twi’lek, had stared back at him stubbornly and held the youngest ones to herself.

He had committed their names to memory already, but he had a decision to take – and quickly. They had been put into the Integration program, and he knew they had neither the mental fortitude nor the training to resist it. Not young as they were – especially the youngest ones. These would quickly be entrusted to _aliite_ and become so entrenched in the Mandalorian way of life they would eventually forget being Jedi hadn’t just been a fanciful dream. He had very little doubt they would integrate successfully and become some of Mandalore’s best. The older ones, it would be harder – the program would be more intense, and it would be either hit or miss.

And he couldn’t allow that to happen, could he? The Jedi Order couldn’t afford to lose sixteen future Jedi at once, not when its number were so low. And the little ones… they deserved something better than brainwashing and cultural genocide. They deserved the warm embrace of the Force, the illumination that came with finding one’s balance within it. They deserved so much more than… the hand they’d been dealt with.

At the same time, he knew that if he were to act on their behalf and make sure they got back to the Order, he would have blown his cover. _Years_ of hard work, gone within minutes. He didn’t want to think about how _betrayed_ his family and… friends would be, how he would be a traitor to the people he refused to consider his own. He didn’t want to think about the hurt he would bring to Jango, and how his decision would shake his powerbase.

He had a decision to make, and it seemed there were no good choices.


	2. Option 1: The Integration.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Obi-Wan decides on non-intervention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor Character Death; implied suicide.  
> Rating T.

Obi-Wan had decided that his position was more important than returning the sixteen wayward Jedi. He had gritted his teeth, and given their integration the attention it was due. The Initiates had, as he knew they’d be, dispatched to several families in the Empire – and there, loved, cared for, educated and trained, separated from any Jedi support… Well. Children were never long to integrate.

The younger Padawans had followed a program meant for almost-adult Mandalorians, and not resisted overly much either before they could be placed into clans ready to welcome them. The older… The two eldest Padawans had been another story entirely. Aayla had seemed to integrate well, and they hadn’t noticed how she slowly faded away – had thought she was shedding her Jedi persona to become more Mandalorian. She had been doing so good, they hadn’t been careful enough – and Obi-Wan hadn’t been able to warn them about trained Force-sensitives specificities; not without revealing that he knew entirely too much about it as a Mandalorian born and raised. He had mourned her, when she passed. It had been a quiet affair; her simply ceasing to exist, returning to the Force, but he had felt the brush of her mind as she let go.

Anakin, on the other hand, had raged and wailed down his fury over them, the Force _quaking_ at the force of it, refusing to learn, stubbornly planting his feet and refusing to move. He had gone to remedial, and, when Jango had asked, Obi-Wan had tried to reach the young Jedi. There was a well of fury within the young man, that nothing seemed to quench. Any other time, his strength of character would have been a boon for the Mandalorians – but here, in integration…

He had shattered his cuffs with sheer power, and they’d realized they couldn’t hold him. Not when Force-suppressors weren’t enough to subdue him.

Obi-Wan had gone to see him, the night before. He’d opened up his shields to the Padawan who held freedom far over his own life, and given the warm embrace of a brother. Anakin had stared back at him, and looked away.

“I’d rather die than be enslaved again.”

His wish had been answered, his light just one more burden on Obi-Wan’s shoulders.

_Please, tell me it wasn’t all in vain_ , Obi-Wan prayed to the Force. _Tell me it wasn’t all in vain._

The Force remained stubbornly silent.


	3. Option 2: The Flight.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Obi-Wan decides on freeing the kids, and go back to the Temple with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated T.

Obi-Wan moved like he always did: with purpose and certitude. No one would wonder at his presence anywhere; such was the privilege of his position. No one would wonder why he’d waited for the _Mand’alor_ to be busy with his duties to go down where integrators where hosted. He had had no need to pretend: he held the power he needed to pretend he was moving the Force-users to another facility.

The Initiates filed out, holding onto each other, and he cuffed the Padawans before he guided them away to the ship hangars. They climbed in, settling themselves in the seats, and it was easy to pretend he didn’t need help for such a trip. He still found himself with Effao and Assri in the ship with them, laughing even as his heart pulsed with adrenaline.

They easily made it to outer-space, none of them even doubting him enough to check on his flight path. He sank into the Force and liberated the Senior Padawans, giving them back their lightsabres, just as he pulled his blaster on those who had been his fellow Mandalorians. Their confusion was bitter into the Force – he forced himself to swallow around it.

“Ben? Ben what’s going on, what is this about?”  
“Get into the escape pod”, he instructed. “Quickly, please. There’s no need to drag this out.”

Both women knew themselves outpowered and outnumbered, with two Jedi holding their lightsabres – though ‘Ben’ was the greatest threat. The blaster he held to them made no sense, not when…

“We’re glad to see you, Master”, Padawan Secura said with a tight smile. “We were in dire straits.  
“Master?” Assri said, frowning. “Ben! Have you lost your mind? Did the _Jetii_ mind-trick you?”  
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Padawans”, Obi-Wan replied softly, though he never looked away from the two Mandalorians. “Initiates, Padawans, I’m taking you back home. You can call me Knight Kenobi.”

The Initiates brightened with relief at the knowledge that the powerful Mandalorian was not a Mandalorian at all, but a Jedi Knight who would take them back home.

Realization hit Effao, who staggered backwards at the shock.

“You’re a _Jetii_ ”, she said, sounding gutted.  
“Afraid so, Effao”, Obi-Wan replied, still holding them at blaster-point. “I’m afraid I can’t let Mandalore steal young Jedi from the Temple. You’ll find that we are rather… possessive and protective of them. Now please, make this easier for all of us and get into an escape pod. We have no wish to fight each other, not when the _ad’ike_ could be harmed.”

Effao and Assri saw the wisdom of his words and made their way into the escape-pod, which Obi-Wan sealed shut and dropped there, immediately launching the ship into hyperspace. Back to the Republic.

Back home.

*

“ _’Alor_ , emergency communication for you”, a young Mandalorian said, holding a comm out for Jango. “It’s Effao and Assri, they’re on an escape pod. We’ve already sent a team to retrieve them.”

Jango frowned. There was no reason why Effao and Assri would have been on a ship, and even less in escape pods. He had a bad feeling – something cold that settled in his gut. He dismissed the messenger and took the call.

“Effao? What is the meaning of this?”  
“ _Osik, ‘alor_ ”, she replied. “We were escorting a transport for the Force-users with Ben-”  
“He told me of no such thing”, Jango growled, straightening.  
“I know, _‘alor_ ”, Effao gulped. “He has… He’s escaping towards Republic space with the Force-users as we speak, _‘alor_.” A pause, that made his heart miss a beat. “…He’s a _Jetii_ sleeper-agent, _‘alor_.”

Jango nearly crumpled the comm in his hand, and took a deep breath. It made no sense. And yet.

“I want him back. _Alive_.”  
“’Alor… He’s blown his cover for the kids. You know he’ll fight for them.”  
_“That’s precisely why I want him back”_ , Jango growled, before cutting the call and giving his orders as he made his way back to his place.

Ben must have left everything he owned save for his armour. He couldn’t take his things on such an escape.

On the table, in Ben’s neat script, was a piece of flimsi. The blade he gave his _riduur_ as an engagement gift had been left on it.

_Ni ceta, cyare._

He dragged his fingers along the blade. It was Ben’s favourite, for more reasons than just being a gift. It was well-cared for, shining and sharp.

_Oh, you will be sorry, cyare. When I’m done with you, you will be._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _ad'ike_ : children.  
>  _osik_ : shit.  
>  _Ni ceta, cyare_ : I'm sorry, love. (lit: I kneel, beloved)


	4. Option 3: The Prayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Obi-Wan decides on freeing the kids, and staying behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating M.  
> Warning for smut (specifically, rough sex) and minor violence.

“Something troubling you, _cyare?”_ , Jango asks, pressing a kiss to his nape.  
“Nothing of importance”, Obi-Wan replies, sinking back against him and closing his eyes.

It is a lie, but if there’s one thing Obi-Wan knows how to do, it is lie. His whole life is a lie, just one big con. His decision is taken already – he feels it in the back of his mind; he knows the decision is subconscious took and forced onto his conscious mind. He has to make the Initiates and Padawans escape. That is why the Force put him there; that is why he put so many years of effort into becoming what he is today.

He should go with them. It would be the sensible thing to do, once he’s blown his cover by freeing them. It’s been so long since he last was in the Coruscant Temple… But he finds that he can’t. He can’t bring himself to leave what he has here, the kids he tutors in _beskad_ , the spicy food he prepares when he has some time, the plants that have invaded his and Jango’s home, the strills he has trained for attack. Erya will have another litter of pups soon, and he wants to see the babies.

He can’t bring himself to leave Jango, the man he has unwillingly fallen in love with and married. It is a poisoned love, but it is love all the same and he can’t leave him behind like what they shared meant nothing. He can’t leave him behind, alone, like they haven’t been observing the little Boba and pondering adoption – how would they juggle a child with the duties that befell both of them?

He can’t, and it will be his death and his downfall. So be it. He is prepared.

“Make love to me”, he breathes as Jango presses another kiss to his neck, and there’s a pause.

Jango knows there’s something bothering him, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’s said such a thing.

“Always”, Jango replies, and Obi-Wan lets himself be carried by the tide, opens himself to the Force as he so rarely does.

Jango is steady and brilliant in the Force, his love radiant and warm, and he takes Obi-Wan apart with his hands and his tongue and his words, and Obi-Wan lets him. When Jango puts him back together afterwards, with a caress of his hand or a kiss of his lips, he’s not sure he wants to let him. Let him fall to pieces, like he feels he is.

The following day, he acts like he always does, and waits for Jango to be on the other side of the planet before he goes to free the young Jedi. He takes them to a ship, pretending to transfer them, and once inside, he presses his access codes and the kyber from his ‘sabre into Padawan Skywalker’s hand as he unties him.

“Listen to me, Padawan”, he says, opening himself to the Force. “You take everyone back to the Temple. Use my codes to get clearance out of Mandalore… and give my kyber to Master Yoda.”  
“You’re a Shadow”, Padawan Secura breathes. “You should come with-”

He presses his gauntlet to her mouth, and shakes his head.

“Farewell, Padawans. May the Force be with you.”

They bow to him.

“May the Force be with you, Master”, they reply, and he smiles.  
“Now go”, he says, jerking his head and exiting the ship, pulling his helmet back on.

He goes back to the apartments he shares with Jango and takes off his armour, setting the dagger Jango gave him as an engagement present, and the vambrace they exchanged as part of their wedding, in front of him as he kneels. The Force, for once, feels light and joyous, surging with hope when the young ones finally reach Republic space, and he feels himself relax. If they had been noticed, he would have been contacted by now. He will give them all the advance he can.

Hours have passed when Jango comes back home, striding inside and coming short when he sees his _riduur_ out of armour, on his knees with the tokens of affection they exchanged in front of him. Slowly, he closes the door.

“Ben?”  
“I’m sorry”, Obi-Wan replies, head bowed, hands curled over his thighs.  
“What- What is this about?” Jango asks, stern but confused – and a bit scared.

His comm rings then – the emergency alert.

“What?” he barks into the comm.  
“ _’Alor_ , it’s the Force-users. They’re nowhere to be found, and a ship is missing. According to the time they left, they must be deep into Republic space by now.” There’s a breath on the other end of the line. “ _’Alor_ … They used _be’alor_ Ben’s codes to pass through.”

Understanding settles in.

“Why did you do that?”, Jango asks, shutting down the call. “Talk to me, Ben. What’s happened?”

His voice is firm, but not yet angered. He waits for justification.

“I couldn’t allow young Jedi to come to harm”, Obi-Wan replies, and looks up. “I cannot stand by when you steal children from my people, from their home and family. I won’t let your warp their minds.”

Jango’s breath seems to leave him for a second, and then the anger comes. Obi-Wan hopes there’s enough love left in him that they won’t drag this for too long – a blaster bolt to the head will be neat and efficient, just like his _riduur_ always has been. The gauntleted fist slams onto his face, sending him to the ground with a grunt of pain. He doesn’t get back up; not when the _Mand’alor_ put him there.

“You _lied_. All these years, you lied. You betrayed us- You betrayed _me_ , Ben”, comes the accusation, steadily growing louder and angrier, fury settling like a cloak of red around Jango in the Force. “Is that even your real _name?_ Was there anything _real_ about you, _skanah?”_

The door slams open and close as Jango leaves, wrathful, and seconds later, there are Mandalorians coming in, cuffing him with Force suppressors and dragging him to a holding cell. He can do nothing more than curl into a corner and cry for the things that never will be, for the trust he had to betray, for the hearts he had to break.  
They leave him there for several days, with a tray of food slid from a slit in the door at mealtime. The isolation is getting to him, but worst, the thought that this is what they condemned him to: to rot away in a cell, slowly losing his mind. At least, the cell has the minimal commodities, though he doesn’t feel very inclined to taking care of himself.

Relief overwhelms him when the door opens, and then- Then Jango is there, striding into his cell and crowding him against a wall.

“Why didn’t you leave?” his _dar’riduur_ asks, fingers tight around his jaw. “Tell me, Ben. Why didn’t you leave with them?”  
“…Because I’d rather die, than leave you”, he finally breathes.

Something relaxes into Jango’s stance, and he kisses him brutally.

_“Good”_ , Jango growls, fingers tightening in his hair. “Because you’re mine, and you’re not going anywhere. _Ner riduur_.”

Obi-Wan shivers at the words, and Jango kisses him again – hard, demanding, _possessive_ , and he doesn’t want it any other way. The clothes he wears fall away easily and Jango’s armour will leave deep, dark bruises on his skin, but he _wants_ – and he has never let himself want, not like this, never like this. When Jango takes him, he’s nowhere near ready enough, his weight resting between the wall and Jango’s forearms, legs hooked over them. He can’t even hold onto him, not with his cuffs linked together, and Jango is rough, taking and taking and _taking_ – but he’s taking nothing Obi-Wan won’t give a thousand times and more; he’s taking him, everything that makes him who he is – his future and his feelings and the wild beating of his heart and the pain and the tears and the overwhelming pleasure. Jango takes everything into his hands and cradles it close, and he makes it his.

Obi-Wan doesn’t know what the future has in store for him – but he’s staying, and that’s enough. Even if the cuffs have to stay on. Even if the people he never considered his watches over him, distrusting. Even if the broken pieces no longer hold together, and he has to let Jango pick them all back up, and assemble them to his convenience.

Jango calls him his, and that’s enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _beskad_ : curved Mandalorian sabre.  
>  _skanah_ : a truly hated person (fucker).  
>  _dar'riduur_ : former spouse, no longer a spouse.  
>  _Ner riduur_ : my spouse.

**Author's Note:**

>  _be'Mand'alor_ : spouse of the Mand'alor (lit: belonging to the Mand'alor).  
>  _traat'aliit_ : squad, team.  
>  _riduur_ : spouse.  
>  _aliit/e_ : family/ies.


End file.
